The invasion of Iraq

The massacre in Rabaa

The Syrian Civil War

The genocide in Gaza

The bombing of Iran

These are some of the main geopolitical threads of my adult life.

At times, it makes me wish I was not a Muslim.

To be torn apart inside again and again because of my chosen faith.

To not be able to sleep because the Ummah is in pain.

I get it when people apostasize.

I get it when they give up hope.

I get it when they just want to take their best shot at a good life and forget about all the horror.

Sometimes it just feels like too much.

But then I think of Imam Husayn on horseback at Karbala.

I think of someone far better than me who faced trials I still do not fully understand.

I think of someone who called his enemies to Allah even unto the bitter end, offering Shimr one last chance to not strike the final blow.

I think of the undying beauty that Zaynab could see even as she watched her family being killed.

And I forget about every pain I have ever felt for the sake of “Being Muslim” for 26 years.

Because I love Imam Husayn more than my own life.

So wherever it leads me, ya Husayn, here I am.

Labbayka ya Husayn